coast-guards, I'd have managed it all right. I
don't think they really had anything to do with the business, but they
just happened to be passing, and of course when the police shouted to
them they cut in at once." I paused. "And that's the whole story," I
finished, "as far as I know anything about it."

They had all three listened to me with eager attention. Even the man
with the auburn beard had kept on looking away from his steering to
favour me with quick glances out of his hard blue eyes. I think I came
through the combined scrutiny with some credit.

McMurtrie was the first to break the ensuing silence.

"Have you any idea how you have betrayed yourself? You can speak quite
freely. Our friend Mr. von Bruenig knows the position."

I thought it best to take the offensive. "I haven't betrayed myself,"
I said angrily. "Somebody must have done it for me. I've not left the
hut since I came down except for an occasional breath of air."

"But earlier--when you were in London?" he persisted.

I shook my head. "I have been down here a week. You don't imagine the
police would have waited as long as that."

I knew I was putting them in a difficulty, for by this time they
must be all aware that Latimer was still on their track, and it was
obviously conceivable that my attempted arrest might be due in some
way to my connection with them; anyhow I saw that even Savaroff was
beginning to regard me a shade less suspiciously.

"Have you brought any of the powder with you?" asked McMurtrie.

It struck me instantly that if I said yes, I should be putting myself
absolutely in their power.

"I hadn't time to get any," I answered regretfully. "I had buried it
outside the hut, and they came on me so suddenly there was no chance
of digging it up. Now I have once done it, however, I can make some
more very quickly."

It was the flattest lie I have ever told; but I managed to get it off
with surprising ease. It is astonishing what rapid strides one can
make in the art of perjury with a very little practice.

Savaroff gave a grunt of disappointment, and McMurtrie turned to von
Bruenig, who was frowning thoughtfully, and made some almost inaudible
remark in German. The latter answered at some length, but he kept his
voice so low that, with my rather sketchy knowledge of that unpleasant
language, it was impossible for me to overhear what he was saying.
Besides, he evidently didn't intend me to, and I had no wish to
spoil the goo